


Broken

by Katinar



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-24
Updated: 2013-08-24
Packaged: 2017-12-24 11:16:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/939346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katinar/pseuds/Katinar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Sam falls unconscious after the third trial, Dean begins to lose hope that he'll ever wake up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Broken

It was too much for him to handle.

It’d been two weeks since he dragged Sam’s barely conscious body off the ground outside of the church after stopping him from the third trial and he still wasn’t waking up. He didn’t know where Cas was, Garth was still nowhere to be found and Kevin was too determined to figure out the whole Heaven fiasco to be of any use to figure out a way to help Sam.

There was nothing he could do.  
  
Dean stared at the ground as he sat in Sam’s room in a chair positioned close to his brother’s bed. He rubbed a single hand over his face with a heavy sigh, lifting the bottle of whiskey off the floor in front of him. He didn’t even bother pouring the alcohol into a glass, drinking straight from the half-empty bottle before slouching back in his chair and looking at Sam again.  
  
“It should have been me,” he muttered, shaking his head. Sam shouldn’t be there; he wasn’t supposed to take on the trials. It was his entire fault Sam was lying there unconscious.  
  
“God damn it Sam, why didn’t you listen to me? You should have just let me do the trials. You shouldn’t have…” As Dean trailed off he slouched forward, grip tightening on the neck of the bottle before throwing it across the room and shattering the glass against the far wall. He slumped forward, burying his face in both hands.

“Please, Sammy… please, just wake up…” Dean’s voice cracked as he spoke. He didn’t know what he’d do if Sam never woke up. Nothing else mattered. With how bad Sam was before the third trial too, Dean doubted Sam would ever wake back up. He’d considered taking him to the hospital, but how would he explain what had happened? There was no way to explain it, no excuse to cover why Sam had seemingly slipped into a coma. Broken bones or gashes could easily be passed off as a clumsy brother, but this? He looked over to Sam again, hoping for any sort of movement other than the slow rise and fall of his chest. His shoulders sank when there was nothing and he sat back in the chair. It’d been three days since he last left Sam’s side, he just couldn’t bring himself to leave anymore.

~*~

By the time a month slipped by, Dean was well and truly losing hope. There was still no sign of Cas (though after seeing the angels fall he doubted Cas would have even be able to do anything to help Sam) and Kevin was still too preoccupied to be of any help. To make matters worse it seemed less likely that Sam would wake up. He’d done his best to help however he could, giving him baths daily and tending to the cut on his hand. He’d even managed to sweet talk a nurse at the nearby hospital into letting him have some IV drips for both nutrition and rehydration under the pretense they were for his ailing grandmother who received treatment at home. Nothing had helped. Sam didn’t even show any signs of progress which didn’t make coping any easier for Dean.

He sat on his own bed with his back resting against the headboard and legs stretched out in front of him, dark bags under his eyes and a knife – one of Sam’s knives – resting in his hands. As far as he knew Sam could already be dead. Sure, he was still breathing, but there was no way to tell what the trials might have done to his head.

If Sam wouldn’t wake up, Dean didn’t think he wanted to continue on. He squeezed his eyes shut as he held the hilt of the knife tightly, knuckles going white with his grip. He didn’t see a point in sticking around anymore. Sam was gone, the angels had fallen and he knew _that_ would be a bitch and a half to straighten out and without Sam to help him he knew he’d have a hell of a time on his own. He lifted the knife and stared down at the blade. He couldn’t go on, not without Sam.

He was nothing without Sam.

“I’m so sorry, Sammy…”

“For what?”

Dean nearly got whiplash as his head shot up at the voice. It’d been quiet and hoarse but it was 100% recognizable.

Sam.

He stared at the doorway to see Sam leaning heavily against the frame, looking rather pale and straining himself to keep his weak frame standing. Dean set the knife down and stood up in a flash, taking quick strides over to Sam. He pulled him into a tight embrace, pressing his face to his brother’s shoulder and feeling Sam’s arms loosely wrap around him.

“Dean, what were you doing? Why were you-”

Dean cut him off as he picked up his head from his brother’s shoulder and mashed his lips to Sam’s roughly. He pulled his head back seconds later, his grip remaining tight around Sam.

“What was that for?” Sam asked, eyes wide but not showing any signs of not liking the kiss.

“For not being dead.” There was relief in Dean’s tone as he rested his forehead against Sam’s, his eyes closing before he stepped back and realized standing there was more than likely tiring for Sam. He guided him over to the bed and sat him down, taking care to not have him sit on the knife. He stood in front of his brother, his hands on his shoulders and tilting his head down to look at Sam. He was fine. He looked weak and exhausted, but he was _alive_. Sam was alive.

“God Sammy, you had me so worried,” he mumbled, shaking his head and closing his eyes. They opened a second later when he felt Sam’s hands on his cheeks, looking down to see Sam giving him a weak smile. Sam leaned up and pressed his lips to Dean’s gently, his hands still cupping his cheeks. Sam held the kiss for much longer than Dean had before pulling back. He stroked Dean’s jaw before taking both hands in his and giving them a slight squeeze.

“You can’t get rid of me that easily.”


End file.
